I need
to continuously practice
responding to situations
according to my best principles of wisdom
because continuous practice
improves my skill
at striving for joy and happiness
in a wise way.

I used to tell myself that I was never a pretty girl
I allowed someone's opinion clout my world
I doubted everything I could do
I allowed someone's thought influence me too
Only now:
I am confident wearing my flaws
From head to toe, I know I have it all
I know I'm not perfect but, I indeed have great skills
To all those before, you no longer have the power of my wills

At the age of 10,
I enter a world manipulated by a smooth console
with knobs to weave myself into a different skin
level up with every ****,
and move with a certain skill.
At the age of 12,
I open a world stacked on my shelf.
Some world lying there parched like the desert,
accumulating dust and letting its texture fray away.
Whereas some lie there with their syllables
paving roads to adventure
and intoxicating the air with its tropic odor.
At the age of 14,
I scroll myself into another world;
where vision is pixelated
and lighting is perfect.
Instagram and Snapchat are the societies that exist,
ranking your position with the followers you keep.
Endorphins are the taps you receive
and filters are what you apply before you leave.
At the age of 16,
I pick up the VR goggles
and sleep under lucid rainbows
and a different constellation.
Everything is under my control,
the timezone;
a stimulation that feels so real.
At the age of 18,
I meet people of different hues,
discovering new worlds in them.
With different nations weaved on their skin,
and composition of carbon, nitrogen, spice and sweet ever so different in them.

What a commotion!
My talent needs promotion!

I can't seem to write.
I really want to fight
whatever's stopping my fingers
because now they over-linger
on the keyboard.

Agh! I really want to write!
But quit I just might!
The words in my head
just want to go to bed,
but I don't want to let them!

Grr, writer's block is frustrating.
I have ideas, I'm ready to verbal *****,
but the something that stops me
I'm really really hating!

It's like there's a transparent wall
between my motivation
and my story ideas.
I can see them,
but I can't use them at all.

Help! I need a bulldozer!
I can't break this wall down!
Ugh, my head hurts from being overused.
I can feel my brain frown.
Come on, dude!

Writer's block, go away,
don't ever come again
another day!

PBTHHH I can't think.
Maybe I can use a hammer
to pound ideas and motivation
into my head.

Okay I'm done.

I still hate writer's block.